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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211949">The Secretary</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridthecrafty/pseuds/astridthecrafty'>astridthecrafty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Thunderbirds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, Mentions of Jeff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:48:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,280</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26211949</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/astridthecrafty/pseuds/astridthecrafty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Set at the latter stages of the Zero X build</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Secretary</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Scott poured a generous hand measure of amber liquid from the decanter. He raised the tumbler in salute to ... something. He wasn’t sure what for, but somehow it still seemed needed. Glints of sunlight flickered through the cut crystal. The fiery warmth as he swallowed didn’t ease his agitated mood. This wasn’t the escape he’d hoped it would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A knock on the office door and the click of the handle interrupt his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Swivelling the chair he was met with a pile of folders. He half listened as Olivia opened each one and pointed to the signature lines. He automatically scrawled his mark at each place, trusting the woman completely. She had been his Father’s… secretary? Assistant? Whatever she was she knew the business inside out. Her years of knowledge had been invaluable after Dad disappeared. Between his Grandmother and Olivia, they had kept him on the right track when he’d been suddenly landed with the CEO role. He’d tried to promote her several times, to give her the post she obviously deserved in the company, but each time she had refused, saying that she was exactly where she needed to be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The pile of folders had scooted to the edge of the desk but remained unlifted. He looked up. Olivia had that expression that he’d only ever seen before she asked him serious question off the record. He sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go on, ask.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just an observation. It’s before noon, you have no meetings, no other reason insisting that you be here that I know of… and you are drinking.” It wasn’t an accusation, her tone was that of a concerned friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay Olivia, I just have a lot on my mind,” he replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hiding out?” she asked. He nodded. That was an understatement. Patience was not Scott’s strongest suit. Zero X was so close to being ready. Brains, rightly, wanted to be overly cautious. Working with The Mechanic though… Scott still wasn’t sure about him. What they were planning to do was the most ambitious and dangerous rescue yet… and they didn’t even know for sure if there was someone still there to rescue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The business we tend not to talk about.” he resigned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I figured as much. Is everyone okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” he paused. “This will sound like an obvious question. Can I trust you, Olivia? As in what I say goes no further.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing in confidence ever has. For two generations now.” Her smile was thoughtful. ”Your father trusted me, and that must have had some bearing as I’m still here,”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He motioned for her to sit and offered the decanter. Her reply a raised hand of no thanks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We might get him back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was silent as she processed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wow.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been so long, Scott. Are you sure?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As much as we can be without going to the source of a signal.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well that does explain the hiding and drinking. I guess you got chased for trying to micromanage everything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty much.” Scott drained a large mouthful from the glass and winced as the burn flowed down his throat. “What if he’s not there or... worse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s what’s really eating at you, isn’t it?”  she answered. “Well, Worst case scenario, you all get closure. If he’s not there, then hopefully you’ll get some answers or clues to follow up on. Your father was… </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> a survivor, and a stubborn old bugger to boot. If you are sure there was a signal from him, then I wouldn’t be surprised.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott laughed wryly. Olivia was right. If anyone could survive 8 years in the deepest area of the solar system it would be Jeff Tracy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He raised his eyes to hers. “Do you think he’ll be proud of what we’ve done?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She smiled back, “Of course he will. You’ve been a great figurehead for Tracy Industries…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks to you and Grandma.” Scott interrupted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re more than welcome, and Mrs Tracy is a formidable woman to work with. Yes, you have had guidance, but you made the final decisions. Profits are up year on year, share prices are amazingly strong. As for International Rescue… I have</span>
  <em>
    <span> no </span>
  </em>
  <span>idea how you boys do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But the pressures I’ve put on my brothers...Gordon and Virgil carry more scars mentally and physically than they should, John we rarely see planetside, we nearly lost him more than once… and Allie,  he’s just a kid… yet we’ve all terrified him so many times...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Scott, stop. Alan has almost graduated, and with fantastic grades. From what I have seen of him he is polite, intelligent and his sarcasm is on point for someone who hasn't lived the years to be cynical. For a kid who lost his mother before he could get to know her, and his father at a time when boys kinda need that role model around… you’ve done a fine job with him. You and your brothers have </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>grown into fine men, and even if you’d fucked up everything else, he would be… WILL be, immensely proud of you for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott toyed, “You swore. I’m telling.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your bad influence.” Olivia returned. ”I remember, must be about 12 years ago, talking to a man a little bit older than you are now. He’d just given his oldest an over enthusiastic telling off for skipping past security and taking his youngest sibling to a well known burger place for lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I remember that day. I wasn’t looking forward to him coming home, but when he did he apologised. We had a long talk that night” Scott swirled the liquid in his glass. “I graduated to ‘drink with Dad’ status. I was so ill the next day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So I heard.” Olivia laughed, then sighed. “He’d asked if he’d pushed you all too hand. Would Lucille have been proud of everything that he’d achieved. If he’d done the right things by their children. Jeff adored her, and missed her deeply. He worried about you boys a lot more than he let on. You all gave him several grey hairs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What goes around, as they say.” Scott fingered through his temples. The last few months he’d started noticing more of his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As if she read his mind Olivia answered, “They show a certain maturity, it’s a good look for business… and women quite like them too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Scott laughed, anyone else and he could have mistaken that lighter tone for flirting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Olivia. For listening. For helping to keep me together with the board. For doing the same for Dad years ago.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope it all works out,” she stood, knowing Scott was back in a good headspace, “It would be good to have him back. A final bit of advice… “ Scott looked up from the tumbler. “There are far better forms of comfort than you can ever get from within a glass. No matter what the outcome, your parents wouldn't want you to miss out on life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Point taken,” he replied, lifting the glass in agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gathered the pile of folders and headed towards the office door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oliva… can I ask a personal question?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She turned back, nodding silently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a feeling from years ago, and the way you were talking about him now. Did you and Dad … were you ever more than... y’know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She answered without hesitation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know that, hypothetically, if we had I would still deny it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled his understanding, and looked back at the glass in his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door clicked closed behind her, leaving Scott alone with his thoughts again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Downing the remains of the bourbon, he picked up his phone and scrolled to a number he hadn't called in far too long.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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